


Thief of Hearts by Predec2

by Predec2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6013212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Predec2/pseuds/Predec2





	Thief of Hearts by Predec2

   
[Thief of Hearts](http://midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3505) by [Predec2](http://midnightwhispers.ca/viewuser.php?uid=773)

 

  
Summary: 

_Brian's client lunch at a sky rise restaurant downtown turns into an unexpected adventure when he gets trapped in an elevator with a particular blond...just what - and who - is this man?  Valentine's Day one-fic._

 

  
Categories: [QAF-U.S.](http://midnightwhispers.ca/browse.php?type=categories&id=99), [Brian/Justin](http://midnightwhispers.ca/browse.php?type=categories&id=68), [Humor](http://midnightwhispers.ca/browse.php?type=categories&id=38), [Romance](http://midnightwhispers.ca/browse.php?type=categories&id=45), [Valentine's Day](http://midnightwhispers.ca/browse.php?type=categories&id=7) Characters:  Brian, Gus, Justin  
Challenges: None  
Series: None  
Chapters:  1 Completed: Yes  
Word count: 14213 Read: 21  
Published: February 14, 2016 Updated: February 14, 2016

 

Story Notes:

This story was inspired by the following prompt on the EKG LJ community:  "Put 2 people who hate each other in an elevator for 12 hours.  What happens? _"_

* * *

STORY DISCLAIMER:  QAF and its characters are the sole property of Showtime and Cowlip Productions.  No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Thank to my dear friend and beta, Gloria. You're the best!

* * *

 

Caught Red Handed by Predec2

 

_Prologue...Brian's POV..._

I groaned. "Aw, Sonny Boy, not that bedtime story again!" I sighed.  How many times could I repeat it? By now, I had it more or less memorized like a well-worn campaign speech.  "Wouldn't you like me to read _Where the Wild Things Are_?  Or how about that new pirate book Justin brought you all the way from Spain?"  My partner had just returned there from his triumphant trek to that country to take part in an international exhibit featuring some of the world's most up-and-coming artists.  While I had been extremely disappointed that I couldn't get away to accompany him due to some important Kinnetik business, I still was bursting with pride over what he had accomplished over the past year. 

 

To top it off, he and my son had bonded quickly once I had introduced the two of them; Justin's ability to come down to the level of a six-year-old at play time - literally and figuratively - had made him an instant star in Gus's book.  Of course, he already was a star to me.  Right now, said 'star' was in our bedroom down the hall, getting some much-needed shuteye after having flown for hours on a plane right after the show had concluded, just to get home tonight. 

 

"Please, Daddy!" A pair of deep brown eyes beseeched me.  "I want to hear that one.  The one about you and Justin in the elevator!" 

 

I shook my head in amusement.  My son - since the day he could practically toddle - had always delighted in riding moving things:  escalators, moving sidewalks at the airport, the hokey horsey rides on a spring at the local grocery store, and last but not least, elevators. So should I be surprised that he wanted to hear this well-worn tale again?  "Okay, Gus.  Lean back, and I'll tell you once more how Justin and I met."  I gently ruffled his hair, receiving a smile in delight as I wove my story for the umpteenth time since that fateful day almost exactly one year ago; of course, there were a few things I would have to leave out that were a little too 'mature' for young minds.  That didn't mean that I didn't remember every detail of it vividly, though.  "Well, it all started when your daddy had to go downtown to meet with a very important man in a very tall building..."

 

* * *

_  
_

_Flashback - Approximately One Year Ago...Brian's POV_

_Williamson High Rise Building - Downtown Pittsburgh - Lunchtime - 55th Floor_

"These are amazing, Brian," Kepler commented just as I figured he would, "...almost as if you read my mind." 

 

I hid my smirk from across the dining table. After all, was there ever any doubt?  I was the best at what I did.  But even so, the man was so predictable; it almost made me feel guilty that it was so easy to please him as a client.  But then again, having inherited shit loads of cash from his Dear Old Daddy when he had kicked the bucket a few years ago made that guilt inexplicably disappear.  Pasting on a professionally polite expression instead of a haughty one, I replied smoothly, "I'm glad you approve."

 

He handed the sample mockups back to me as I placed them back into my briefcase lying open on the chair next to me, grabbing the paperwork my legal department had already created that was enclosed in a large, brown, courier envelope.  I always came to these meetings well-prepared, just like the Boy Scouts.  "Here's the paperwork for your attorneys to review," I told him with a smile.  "Give me a call if there are any questions."  I took a moment to down the last part of my scotch before the client rose to his feet, and I did the same.  It was always good practice to let the schmuck at least _think_ he was leading, when I knew it was exactly the opposite; it was all part of the game. 

 

He reached out his hand to shake mine briefly and nodded.  "I'm sure everything will be in order," he told me.  "You run a tight ship at Kinnetik.  My people should have them back to you within a week."

 

I nodded as we turned to go.  "Sounds good," I told him.  "Say hello to the wife for me," I added, as he nodded back at me and headed toward the door to the restaurant.  I couldn't hold back my smugness then, having to bite my tongue a moment ago to avoid adding the word 'trophy' just before 'wife.'  I had seen the missus, and no one in their right mind who looked like a walking parody of a Barbie girl would be caught dead with someone who looked like the balding, chubby, middle-aged man with whom I had just conducted business. But tons of money would make any 55-year-old monkey look very attractive.

 

I took a moment to admire the rooftop, high-rise view from the restaurant's expansive windows as it slowly revolved around the city of Pittsburgh.  The _Circle View_ restaurant was one of the most exclusive dining establishments in the city, and came with an outrageous price tag when dining here.  But in certain circumstances - and with the ability to write it off as a business expense - I chose to conduct my business here when the need warranted impressing a client. And Kepler was definitely used to the very best, thanks to his rich, now-deceased old man.

 

"Anything else, Mr. Kinney?" I heard the concierge ask me as he handed the billing wallet back to me with my credit card and restaurant receipt nestled inside. 

 

I shook my head with a slight smile.  "No, I have everything I need," I informed him. I slipped on my jacket and picked up my briefcase after pocketing the credit card and slip into my wallet as Walter, the concierge, eyed me hopefully. 

 

"You sure there's nothing else?" he asked, the inherent, unspoken invitation clearly heard in his voice.  _Been there, done him_ , I thought as I shook my head again, noticing his face falling just a bit in disappointment.  I grinned - the man must be due to take a break. Well, he would need to find some other 'diversion' for his break, because my motto was - and always had been - one to a customer. 

 

"No," I told him.  "I'm done here."  With another nod at him, I turned and headed out of the restaurant

* * *

 

 

_Same Time - 50th Floor - Justin's POV_

"Gee, Justin. You shouldn't have gotten so dressed up just to see me," Daphne teased me as we stood on the balcony of her aunt's condo overlooking the downtown Pittsburgh skyline.  "It doesn't take a psychic to know where _you've_ been."   She studied me, her eyes twinkling, as she pressed her fingers against her forehead in a perfect imitation of Mysterious Marilyn.  "Let's see if I can figure out what sort of color theme you're using for your current piece."  I rolled my eyes as she ventured a guess.  "Uhh...red?"

 

I scoffed.  "Well, I can tell that you're not an artist," I replied as she maturely stuck her tongue out at me.  "Don't you recognize crimson when you see it?" I asked her with a grin of my own.  I held my hands out in front of her, my palms and fingers streaked with the range of colors I had used earlier in the day.  "Oh...and a little merlot mixed in with it, too.  The color, not the wine," I explained as she grinned. "I couldn't quite get the right shade of red for the sunset I'm painting, so I had to mix a couple of colors together."

 

"Well, they mixed well...under your fingernails.  I thought acrylics were easy to clean off your hands?"

 

"They are...when I'm using them," I told her.  "It's a long story, but for this project oil-based paint was the better choice. Only problem is, it's a bitch to take off your hands afterward."

 

"Obviously," she responded dryly.  "Well, whatever you do, don't touch anything! My Aunt Grace will not be so 'graceful' if she sees paint stains all over her new couch.  Or her walls.  Or her dining room table.  Or..."

 

I held my hands up in surrender.  "Okay, okay, I get it.  I can look, but not touch.  I have to get going anyway; it's my day to make my weekly 'obedient son' appearance at Mom's for dinner."

 

Daphne nodded in sudden remembrance.  "Oh, yeah, I forgot!  Remember to bring home some leftovers afterward...especially since you didn't pay your half of our grocery bill this week.  And make sure you include dessert.  I know how great a cook your mom is. And if she made some homemade pie, I want _two_ pieces."

 

I laughed.  "Where you fit all that food is beyond me!  Keep eating the way you are, and we'll have to take out a loan.  Wonder if you can pay for food on a rent-to-own basis?" 

 

"YOU have room to talk about squirreling away food," she pointed out. 

 

"I can't help it if I get low-blood sugar," I reminded her with a shrug.

 

"Out," she commanded, as she turned to give my back a good push into the condo through the open door of the balcony.  "And for God's sake, don't trip on the way out; it'll look like some crime scene with all that red paint on your hands!"

 

"So glad you're concerned for my safety," I quipped as we walked to the front door, letting her turn the knob to open it.  I turned around to reassure her, "I'll tell my mom I need a carry out. Not that it's necessary; every time I visit, you know she throws grocery bags of food at me like I'm some homeless person." 

 

"Good boy," she praised me like I was a poodle doing tricks at the circus.  I snorted in indignation, making her giggle at my reaction.

 

"I'll see you later tonight.  I'm going to wait until my aunt gets back from her errands, and then I should be heading out.  It's not every day I get to act like one of the rich bourgeoisie in a downtown condo with a million-dollar view."   

 

"Ooh...there's one of those big words again," I teased her as she smacked me on the chest; I noticed she took great pains to make sure she didn't touch any part of me that still had paint on it.  "Oh, and don't forget that wonderful designer luggage you dropped there on the way in. It goes just perfectly with your rumpled fashion attire." 

 

"Fuck you," I bantered back good-naturedly.  "I can't help it if I get immersed in my work."  She laughed, earning a grin from me as I stooped down long enough to retrieve my familiar, worn, duffel bag.  I had owned it for years, but it still had plenty of use left in it, and I didn't go anywhere without it, especially since it had ample room for everything I could possibly need.  "See you later, Zsa Zsa."

 

 

Heading down the hallway, I arrived at the elevators located at the far end a minute later, and pressed the 'down' button to wait for the next available car, tapping my foot in typical, nervous fashion as I impatiently waited for the car to arrive, noticing it was presently stopped on the top floor where the revolving restaurant was located - not that I ever had a chance to explore it personally.  The menu prices were way too rich for my blood.  "Great," I muttered, wondering how long it would take for the elevator to arrive on my floor.  _Was there a convention going on up there?_ I huffed as I watched it stop at least twice before it finally arrived at my floor. 

 

I heard the ding and waited a few seconds before the doors slid open, and I noticed with some dismay how overcrowded the car was; there must have been nine or ten passengers already inside, and no one was getting out.  Mumbling an 'excuse me,' I entered the car with my trusty duffel bag, hefting it up onto my shoulder and inadvertently knocking it into a tall man standing right behind me who had his head down, looking at his cellphone. 

 

"Watch where you swing that damn thing," he growled against my back.

 

"Sorry," I mumbled, rolling my eyes in irritation and feeling everyone deliberately trying to ignore our conversation as we all stood rigidly at our spots, much too close to each other as the doors closed, and the elevator car slowly began its descent.  Enduring some mindless Muzak coming from somewhere inside the car - the building owner's idea, no doubt, of soothing entertainment for battered, stressed-out passengers - the car came to a stop on the 20th floor and then the 11th floor to let several people out, finally leaving only me and the tall man I had knocked into earlier.  _Wonderful,_ I thought.  _Of all the people, I had to be stuck with Mr. Personality._ As he we instinctively moved apart to create more space between us, the polished, mirrored walls of the elevator provided me with a clear view of him from a few feet away, and when I finally dared take a look at the stranger who had growled at me before I sucked in a breath.  Fuck, he might have horrible manners, but he was hot. Damn hot. Wearing an impeccable, custom-tailored, dark gray suit, polished, black shoes, hair combed without so much as a tendril out of place, long, lean body, and...Well... _Holy shit_.

 

I felt my face warm as he studied me from across the length of the elevator car before giving me a smirk as if he could read my mind, although at the moment I suppose that wasn't necessary, since he could obviously see the lust written all over my face.  My gaydar pinged strongly then; it didn't take a rocket scientist for this gay boy to figure out I was in like company.  I turned my head and averted my eyes, feverishly willing the elevator car to hit the lobby floor in record time, so I could breathe again and cool my temperature, which was quickly rising along with my pulse and a certain anatomical part. 

 

As he peered down at his cellphone again, I risked another look as the car continued to slowly travel downward; he was like some magnet to me, and I was some unwilling, metallic object, unable to avoid him.  _Couldn't this car go any faster?_ I felt hotter than a rack of coals on a charcoal grill.  As I turned my head to look down at the floor, the doors, _anywhere_ but at him, I heard him snort, which made me peer over at him.

 

"I'd do you," he told me unexpectedly, as I stared over at him in shock over his brashness.  "But I don't fuck guys who wear clothes with a Goodwill label. Although...turn around," he suddenly demanded.  "Your ass might make it worth it - if I can erase the image of that ensemble out of my head first." 

 

"I beg your pardon?"  I asked, glaring at him in anger.  _Yes...definitely uncouth_ , I decided. But it always seemed the best looking ones were.

 

"Oh, never mind," he abruptly told me with another smirk.  I was beginning to think it was some sort of involuntary, nervous tic, because he seemed to do that a lot.  "I don't have time today, even for a bathroom fuck."

 

"Gee, I'm crushed," I retorted then, finally finding my voice as I shook my head at his crassness and arrogance, causing Mr. Fashion Plate to snicker, which only made me angrier.  "I'll try not to slit my wrists in disappointment before the day is over." 

 

That caused him to chuckle as I rolled my eyes, the car continuing to slowly proceed down to the lobby, where I couldn't wait to escape this unexpected trap.  That is, until the car suddenly lurched and came to an abrupt stop - and I found myself flung across the car...right toward the other man, who, with perfectly timed instinct, grabbed me by the arms and held me up just in time for me to avoid hitting the mirrored wall with my head.  "What the fuck?" I cried out as I stared up into his eyes, which were an amazing shade of amber. 

 

I heard a sort of "oomph!" escape his lips (which were quite enticing, I had to admit) as I slammed into him before his back hit the hard wall behind him, and he unexpectedly flung me to the side like a rag doll.  "Fuck!" he growled, taking time to straighten out his designer suit and smooth it out.  "What the hell?"

 

"Don't look at me!" I countered as we heard some sort of loud, wailing alarm coming from what must have been the elevator speaker.  "You think I want to be stuck in here with you?" 

 

He offered me that cocky smirk again as he replied, "Are you kidding? This would be every queer's dream where _I'm_ involved," he pronounced as I snorted in disbelief over his arrogance. 

 

"Well, you can dream on," I retorted, wiping some perspiration away from my forehead with the left sleeve of my tee-shirt; how I had managed not to get paint stains on that part was incomprehensible, but it seemed to be one of the few spots I had kept clean.  "It's hot in here," I muttered. "And don't say anything," I told him with a pointed finger as I noticed the guy about to open his mouth, no doubt to extoll more of his virtues to me. 

 

He held up his hands in supplication as the shrill, piercing sound continued to bleat from the elevator's speaker, overriding the Muzak we had been hearing before.  Glancing over at the panel located next to the elevator car, I noticed a red button under some text that said to push it in case of an emergency; well, this was about as urgent as it could get.  Striding the few feet over to the panel, I pushed the red button and waited impatiently for someone to answer above the alarm still sounding.

 

The silence was abrupt and deafening as the siren ceased a few seconds later, and the speaker crackled like an old-time, drive-in movie theater contraption; obviously this function wasn't used very often.  "Security," a curt male voice responded.

 

"Uhh...we're stuck in an elevator," I told the male voice on the other end.  I turned to glare over at my companion as he mumbled what sounded like a 'duh' under his breath.  "What's going on?" 

 

"Sorry, Sir, but the elevators have been deactivated until further notice."

 

That definitely evoked a reaction from my not-so-pleasant companion as he yelled over, "What the fuck do you mean, 'they've been deactivated'?"

 

"Sir, you don't have to use profanity," the detached voice replied curtly.  He didn't give me an opportunity to point out that I wasn't the one being rude before he explained, "There's been a bank robbery in the building. It's an automatic response to an emergency.  Any possible exit routes are locked down to prevent the perpetrator from escaping."

 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mr. Armani shouted back.  "I have a business to run!"  I watched as he scowled deeply before pulling out his cellphone and studying it.  "One bar?  If you're going to strand us in a damn elevator, at least give us decent service!"

 

"Will you shut up?" I hissed over at him.

 

"Sir, if you continue to be discourteous and use profane language, I will discontinue this call."

 

"It wasn't ME!" I pointed out.  "There're two of us in here.  The rude one is over there!" 

 

"As soon as we know the whereabouts of the robber, the elevators will be reactivated. Please stand by."

 

Mr. Hot-But-Rude-Guy huffed in disbelief as the distinct sound of a click was heard.  "Hello?  How long are we going to be in here?  Hello? Hey, dickhead!  I'm talking to you!"  He shook his head in disgust.  "Please stand by," he parroted the security guy in a high-pitched voice. "Like we have a choice."  His brow deeply furrowed like a newly-plowed Iowa field, he peered down at his cellphone, sliding one of his long fingers across the screen.  As much as I disliked his attitude, I couldn't help being entranced watching his hands. He had the most elegant-looking hands on a man I had ever seen, which got me wondering what sort of things he could do to ME with those hands...

 

I swallowed hard and quickly looked away as he suddenly peered over at me and narrowed his eyes to study me.  Sighing, I dropped my tattered duffel bag - currently bulging with all sorts of objects - heavily down onto the ground as I slid my back against the mirrored wall opposite my sullen companion, wrapping my hands around my knees to rest my forehead against them and wondering just how long this unexpected event would last.

 

* * *

 

_Brian's POV_

What had initially been a moment of triumph and self-satisfaction over securing yet another account had now turned into a far different feeling as I glanced down at my cellphone to reread the description of the suspect being sought for robbing the Silverton Bank located a few floors down from the restaurant:  the same floor from which my current companion had entered the elevator car. The same person who had promptly bumped into me with his duffel bag in his insistent haste to fit into the car that was already packed with other people.  Whoever the suspect was, he hadn't been smart enough to disguise himself, because on the news webpage I was scanning from my phone, there was a quite extensive description of him:  male, blond, late-teens-to-early-twenties, slender, approximately 5'7".  The news report also mentioned that he had flashed a small-caliber pistol at the clerk as he handed her a note demanding the cash, and had been seen carrying some sort of satchel with him that he had used to stuff the cash into.  Before handing him the money, the teller had managed to conceal a red dye packet inside it, which was standard procedure during bank robberies.  I bit back any audible dismay as the screen suddenly went black then, and I realized the reason why:  I had forgotten to charge my cellphone on the way to meet up with Kepler, and now I had no way of contacting anyone on the outside. 

 

I risked a glance over at my companion as he sat there with his hands wrapped around his knees, his head bowed and his eyes closed.  Blond, slim, medium height, a horrid-looking, torn-up, canvas duffel bag stuffed with...something. And what appeared to be red stains on both his hands.   My eyes widened as my heart began to thump in realization.  _Shit_.  He certainly didn't look like the bank robber type; but maybe after all that money he stole, he could at least afford to go buy some decent clothes. 

 

I nervously feathered my fingers through my hair; _what the hell was I thinking_?  I was stuck for who knows how long in a sweltering, fucking elevator with an armed robber who everyone was searching for. And if he was in here...they would NEVER deactivate the damn thing and open the doors.  At least the screeching alarm had finally ceased, leaving us once more with the inane elevator music. At the moment, though, that was the least of my worries as I looked around the elevator car, trying furiously to come up with some solution to my dilemma.

 

"What?" I suddenly heard the man ask, as I turned my head to peer over at him. 

 

"Nothing," I mumbled, not wanting to get him upset. He didn't appear like the violent type - hell, for all I knew he could have used a toy gun - but I wasn't going to take that chance. The fact that he was sitting right next to the elevator panel didn't help, though. I was sure before I could have an opportunity to press the 'help' button again, he would pull out the gun he had.  "Nothing," I repeated a little stronger, as he gave me a skeptical look. 

 

"Then why were you staring at me?" he asked.  _Fuck. Did he notice that I'm nervous?  I'm NEVER nervous._ Of course, I've never been in an elevator car with an armed robber before, either. 

 

"I wasn't staring at you," I countered, clearing my throat. "Uh...I was just thinking that maybe we should call the security people again...to see if we could get an update."  I noticed the blond wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve again _.  Was he really that hot...or nervous over what he had just done?  Was he afraid that I would find out who he was? And if he did, what would he do with me?  TO me?_

To my utter surprise, he nodded.  "Yeah, I guess that's a good idea," he told me, my mouth hanging open in shock.  He _wanted_ me to report him?  But then it made more sense, as he took the initiative to reach over to the intercom button and waited for some sort of response.  Was he trying to throw them off the trail? Maybe I could shout out my predicament to them when they answered, and then overtake the guy before he could pull the gun out. But to my horror, no voice responded.  _What the fuck?_

"Hello?  Security?" he called out.  For a moment, I hoped he would stand up and turn to face the elevator panel, because then he would have his back to me, offering me a better chance of overpowering him and snatching away the gun he no doubt had stuffed in that horrendous duffel bag of his. But all the lazy bum did was reach up with his left hand and press the button as he remained in place, watching me. 

 

I observed him press the button again a few moments later, this time receiving some sort of loud, screeching sound in response, along with some ear-splitting squelch. "Fuck!" he growled as we both winced at the sound before it ceased, only to be replaced with the same absurd elevator music.   But that was ALL we received, despite him pressing the button and performing the same ritual a couple more times.  _Great.  Just great.  What is this -radio silence now?_ An instrumental version of "All By Myself" proceeded to play, and I couldn't help thinking, _I could only wish._

 

I would have thought in this day and age that anyone human had a cellphone - including Billy the Kid sitting across from me - but I wasn't sure whether to ask him if he had one or not.  I mean, even if he DID have a cellphone, would he use it to in effect turn himself in? He knew they were looking for him, and they had a damn good description of him from what I had read. So that probably meant they either had some eyewitnesses, a camera recording, or both.  Of course, HE didn't know that. I wondered what I would do in his place. Perhaps it was actually safer for him to remain here with me. But I sure as hell didn't want to be here.  Besides, the longer we stayed in here, the more stifling it was becoming.  So what could I do? I was counting on him eventually nodding off. Then I could creep up on him and grab the duffel bag before he had a chance to react.  _Yeah...that just might work._

 

I turned my gaze back to him as I noticed him studying me intently as if we were engaging in a silent game of 'who would blink first'. What was he doing? Sizing me up as an adversary?  If he didn't had the advantage of an armed weapon nestled inside all that money he was no doubt carrying, it would be a no-brainer.  Funny how a gun significantly skewed the odds.

 

"Are you some big shot at the bank or something?" he suddenly asked, apparently curious. 

 

I snickered, not able to help myself at the irony; if I HAD been, I wouldn't be in this predicament now.  "Hardly." 

 

"Well, you must have money from somewhere.  What do you do for a living?"

 

_Huh?  I was sitting across from a man whose income apparently is derived from robbing banks, and he wanted to know where I got MY money from? Perhaps I should ask HIM that question._ "Why do you want to know?" I queried him. 

 

"Duh. Polite conversation," he informed me.  "Or do you want to just sit here and stare at the walls until they start the elevator back up?"

 

I glared at him.  "No...I'd rather listen to the sophisticated instrumental selections they have elected to play for our musical entertainment," I shot back.  _Impertinent little shit..._ "Of COURSE I want to get out of here!"  _Badly...and in one piece, hopefully..._ I sighed heavily, deciding I might as well play by his rules.  "I'm the CEO and owner of an advertising agency.  I was meeting a client upstairs at the revolving restaurant, if you must know." 

 

His eyes seemed to widen in interest then for some reason.  "Really?  Which one?" 

 

I pretended to misunderstand as I replied, "The only one that's on the top floor and revolves." 

 

He rolled his eyes.  "Not THAT! Which advertising agency?"

 

_Did he really think I was going to tell him that, so he could come to my office and rob ME?_   I might be feeling uncomfortable at the moment, but I sure as hell wasn't dumb, either. And maybe he wasn't as dumb as I had thought initially.  "What difference does it make?" I replied instead. 

 

He shrugged at me, seemingly uncaring.  "It doesn't," he told me.  "In fact, I wouldn't even care if YOU were the robber...all I want is to get out of this place."  He appeared distinctly apprehensive at the moment as he wiped his forehead yet again with the back of his sleeve.  _Great...just great._   He seemed to be getting agitated now about our confinement...maybe he had a drug habit or something? But as I peered over at his flawless-looking, pale skin, vibrant blond hair, and deep blue eyes, he looked quite healthy to me.

 

I swallowed as I glanced away, fidgeting at the thought of exposing more of that skin to my inspection.  _Fuck_. Even if he DID dress like a refugee from K-Mart and had a less-than-respectable career choice, I would still fuck him. At least once, anyway.  One to a customer.  No refunds, no exchanges...no repeats.

 

"Will you stop staring at me?  It makes me uncomfortable," all of a sudden I heard him say, jolting me back to my current situation.

 

"In your dreams.  I wasn't staring at _you_.  In case you haven't noticed, there's not much else to look at in here...except for my reflection, which, I must admit, is quite magnificent."

 

He snorted at that comment as I grinned back at him, watching him huff and shake his head in irritation.  For some odd reason, I was enjoying the repartee bouncing back and forth between us. Was this some sort of Stockholm Syndrome kind of thing, I fleetingly wondered, where I was actually beginning to LIKE being stuck in here with him? 

 

I watched as his eyes drifted shut before he jerked his head back up and opened them, kind of like my dear old mother used to do in her pew at Mass after a night of too much 'celebrating.' I didn't have my cellphone to note the time as I wondered how long we had been stuck in here; it seemed like forever by now, even though I knew it hadn't been that long. But if I heard "My Heart Will Go On" one more time, I was going to go fucking crazy. The speaker would be the first thing I would shoot after I stole the gun from him, I decided.

 

I watched quietly as he repeated the same ritual, nodding off for a second or two before his head jerked upright in disorientation again.  If I gave it enough time, I just might be able to snatch his bag away from him after all. And who knows? Maybe the bank was even offering a reward of some type.  I silently vowed that as soon as I had the chance, I would do make my move.  For now, he wasn't yet to that point, but I suspected he would be soon. 

 

Suddenly feeling hot myself in the stuffy surroundings, I pulled on my tie to loosen it as I slipped out of my suit jacket, carefully placing it down onto the floor of the elevator before managing to pull my tie over my head and lay it on top of the other item of clothing.  I unbuttoned a couple of buttons and rolled up my sleeves, hearing what sounded like a sharp intake of breath from across the car. 

 

I lifted an eyebrow in question with the intention of staring back at him smugly, only to have my eyes widen involuntarily and my heart began to pound as I watched him turn to unzip the aforementioned bag, wondering if I had pissed him off or something. Was he going to pull the gun out of it, and aim it at me?  Was it still loaded?  Had it even been loaded during the robbery?  I know if I had a gun pointed at ME, I wouldn't assume anything; I would just give him the money.  My body - and my life - weren't worth holding onto my employer's money; not unless it belonged to ME.  Then I might put up a fight. 

 

Holding my breath, I watched as he reached in...and pulled out what appeared to be a pad of some type and a drawing pencil.  _What in the hell?_ Than I had an epiphany.  _Aha! I knew it_!  That just confirmed that he WAS the robber! This must have been what he used to write his note that he handed to the bank teller during the robbery. But what did he need it for now?  Was he going to write me a note now, threatening me with bodily harm if I took any more clothing off?  I couldn't help snickering at that thought.  If I took any more clothes off, it would not only render him speechless, but also unable to write down _anything_. 

 

I observed the tip of his tongue darting out - and his eyes shifting to the paper and then over to me back and forth, like a tennis match - as he began to write something down on the paper.  Or, more accurately, from the back and forth motion of his hand, it appeared he was sketching something.  Or someone.  _Me_.  He wasn't writing anything.  He was drawing ME.  I couldn't help grinning back at him openly then, despite my circumstances.   "You're drawing me?" I asked, unable to help myself. 

 

He blushed then as he realized I knew what he was doing.  "So?" he replied.  "At least you're more interesting than drawing a wall of mirrors." 

 

"Gee, thanks.  I'm flattered," I quipped.  "Well, maybe I don't WANT you to draw me."  I had never heard of a person who robbed banks, and then did sketching afterward.  Maybe it relaxes him after a long day of driving from bank to bank to steal money? 

 

"You don't?" he asked with a frown as if that thought would never have occurred to him.

 

I rolled my eyes, deciding it was best perhaps not to antagonize him...at least until he finally nodded off.  "Do I look like I care?  Go ahead," I told him with a shrug, holding my hands out to the side.  "Indulge yourself."  He nodded with a half-smile as he began his scratching again, his eyes constantly darting toward me and the paper as he continued to draw. I admit I was curious as to whether or not he was any good at it, but I figured as long as it kept him occupied and fairly serene, that was a good thing.  "Wonder how long we've been in here?" I mumbled. 

 

I hadn't noticed his chrome watch before until I saw him twist his wrist to gaze down at it.  "Fuck. About three hours," he told me.  "It's so stuffy in here," he commented, again wiping his sweaty brow.  While it WAS rather close in the stagnant air, I didn't think it was THAT hot; at least not hot enough to constantly be sweating the way that he was. No, I was convinced it wasn't the temperature that was causing him to sweat - now I was certain that it had to be nervousness over what he had done, and his fear of being caught. 

 

"What's wrong with you?" I blurted out, deciding to be direct.

 

"Huh?" 

 

"You're sweating more than a sumo wrestler!  It's not THAT hot in here!" 

 

"Yes, it is!" he insisted as I shook my head in exasperation. 

 

"Are you always this fucking pig-headed?  It's a wonder you could even find a bank to rob," I muttered under my breath.

 

"What did you say?" he asked, suddenly appearing defensive now. 

 

I took a deep breath as I tried to come up with a logical reply.  "I said...oh, never mind," I hurriedly added.

 

"You're very rude, you know that?"

 

I smirked at him.  "Why, thank you. I'll take that as a great compliment."

 

He huffed at me, and I couldn't help chuckling over the look on his face.  He may be a bank robber - albeit seemingly not a very good one, and certainly not the best dressed twink I had ever seen - but I was actually beginning to like the guy.  In an odd sort of way. 

 

"Just leave me alone!" he snapped at me.  I watched him temporarily place his pencil down onto the sketchpad before he spread the fingers of his right hand widely apart, apparently to stretch them. "Of all the people I had to be stuck with in a damn elevator, why did it have to be you?" he groused. 

 

"Come over here, and I'll show you how lucky you are," I told him with a salacious grin.  "You might actually look pretty hot without all those hand-me-down duds you're wearing." 

 

His eyes flashed.  "Wouldn't YOU like to know?" he taunted me.  "Aaargh!" he yelled, as he dropped the sketchpad and pencil, slowly rose to his feet, and - to my shock - began to do some jumping jacks.

 

Each time he jumped up, his pale belly was temporarily exposed to my intense scrutiny, and my cock was definitely undergoing a salute in response.  I squirmed as I could have sworn he actually peered back at me with an impertinent grin as I looked away, picking at some imaginary lint on my shirt.  As I dared to look back at him again when I heard him stop bouncing around, it was just in time to see him bending over to retrieve something from his bag. My thoughts warred between anxiety over whether or not he was about to pull out a revolver...and the wondrous sight of a perfectly rounded, fuckable ass clearly showing through the outline of his denim pants.  The mouthwatering sight won out over my fear at the moment, as he turned around and promptly blushed as he realized I was openly ogling him; he had the audacity to grin, though, over his 'achievement' as I scowled.  _Well, this would at least be a first_ , I decided.  I had fucked dentists, priests, teachers, even policemen.  Lots and lots of them. But I had never fucked a bank robber...until now.  If we were going to be locked up in here for whoever knows HOW long, I had to satisfy my urges somehow...gun or no gun.  To me, that was but a trifle matter.  No one had ever resisted my charms before, and this would be no exception.  Plus, it might allow me to distract him long enough to snatch the gun out of his bag.  _Yes...I liked that idea of a diversionary tactic much better than just waiting for him to nod off on me._ I thought, too, of quickly rising to try and wrestle him to the ground and reach for the bag to get the gun while he had his back turned, but I figured I wouldn't have long enough. Besides, the other option seemed much more desirable to me at the moment as he turned back around to resume his task, and the site of that amazing ass temporarily paralyzed me. 

  
"Do you always spontaneously break out into calisthenics in an elevator?" I wound up commenting as he continued to dig around in his bag.  "Or are you testing the theory that if you jump up and down when the cable breaks and the car plunges to the ground, you won't get hurt?' 

 

He offered me a half-smile in response, holding the retrieved object - a bottle of water - in his hands as he sat down again with his back leaning against the elevator wall.  I continued to formulate a plan in my mind, studying him.  I watched as he took a large gulp of the water, finding myself fascinated and aroused merely by the movement of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. 

 

I licked my lips, suddenly noticing how parched they were.  I hadn't eaten much for breakfast - normally I didn't anyway, but I had been too busy schmoozing my client to really partake of much of the breakfast buffet.  Now I was regretting that somewhat, as my stomach rumbled from hunger pangs. 

 

He chuckled at me.  "Was that your stomach?" 

 

I snorted.  "No, it was the 11:00 arriving at the station.  We've been here for what now? Three, four hours?  Of _course_ it's my stomach!  Your deduction skills amaze me." 

 

He glared at me. "Well, if you're going to be such an asshole, there's only one thing I can do."  I watched as he placed his water bottle - now empty - down onto the ground and reached inside his duffel bag again.  Had I really pissed him off now?  Was he that sensitive?  If so, I wonder what he would have done if the teller had criticized the stunning ensemble he was presently wearing? No wonder he hadn't risked carrying on a conversation with her. 

 

"Uhh...hold on!" I told him as I raised my left hand in alarm, concerned about what he might do...until I noticed it wasn't the gun he was pulling out; it was some sort of small object in his hand.  Relieved, I watched him pull off a plastic film from the top of the package...and then grab what appeared to be a small bread stick that he dipped into something.  Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he brought it to his lips as I recognized it as peanut butter. Most normal people would take a bite off the end to eat both the breadstick AND the peanut butter.  I bit back a groan as, instead, the blond slid the breadstick through his lips, sucked off the peanut butter, and then pulled the breadstick out.  I swallowed hard as he returned my gaze with an innocent look, repeating the same thing - with the same, damn breadstick - over and over again before he _finally_ bit into it and chewed it up. 

 

"I'd offer you one," he told me by way of explanation.  "But there's so few of them...and I have low blood sugar.  I have to keep up my strength, because I'm a growing boy."  He grinned evilly at me.  "Uh...you didn't think to bring anything to eat or drink?  What a shame." 

 

He wasn't the _only_ one who was a growing boy; at least in one particular part of my anatomy, which was quickly enlarging right now.  "Enough!" I growled deep in my throat, deciding the direct approach was best.  I stood up to unbuckle my belt before sliding it out of my pant loops; it hit the floor with a loud clang as the sound reverberated in the confined space.  I noticed his eyes growing wider - another peanut-butter covered breadstick stuck in his hand in mid-air - as I unbuttoned my fly and unzipped my pants, gifting him with a knowing look.  At the moment, the little shit was so mesmerized he was almost frozen to the spot; I could tell the last thing on his mind was to train his gun on me.  I was about to be the one who was going to go gunning...straight for his curvy ass. 

 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked me as I continued my strip-tease, unbuttoning my shirt to shrug it off my shoulders as it fell onto the floor beside me.  "I know it's hot in here, but it's not THAT hot," he hurriedly mumbled, looking away.  Now HE was the one who appeared uncomfortable.  _Good,_ I thought. 

 

"Oh, it's hot in here, all right," I agreed as I slowly approached him.  He finally dared to look up at me, his eyes growing large as he realized I was now down to only my briefs.  Briefs that could barely hold my raging hard on, because the closer I approached this amateur robber, the more interested I became.  Of course, unless a man was rock-ugly, I could fuck anyone - and anyone would be glad to have me do it - but I was finding that I may have underestimated this twink's 'charms.'  His eyes were an intriguing shade of aqua - especially right now with the pupils enlarged - and his skin was smooth and unblemished; not to mention the silky-looking hair, the strong jaw, and the long eyelashes.  I was always a sucker for hair that I could finger while I fucked a man, and the long eyelashes only accentuated his eyes.  _Yeah...definitely fuckable_ , I decided. And the view of that ass earlier... _shit_.  Gun or no gun, I had to have this one.  Right now, I didn't care if I was stranded with this thief for the next 24 hours.  In fact, I couldn't help thinking, _bring it on_. 

 

"Don't come any closer," he warned me as I chuckled over his stern-looking expression, totally unimpressed. 

 

"Or what?" I dared him, wondering briefly if it was a good idea or not to goad him. But I was so deep into what I was doing - emphasis on the _deep_ part and what that might soon entail- that I threw caution to the wind. I had to say, an elevator car was one of the few places yet in which I hadn't fucked, but I was soon going to rectify that.  "I'm going to come, all right," I told him in my sexiest, most superior voice as I swaggered closer...only to have my arrogance promptly disappear as I watched him purse his lips firmly together, throw down his now-empty package and reach inside his duffel bag again.  I held my breath, wondering if I had finally gone too far, as I saw him pull out what appeared to be the gun.  I winced, throwing my hands up in front of my face in a defensive posture.  "For fuck's sake, don't shoot!" I yelled at him...only to feel a fierce stream of water hitting me in my chest.   

 

"What the fuck?!" I roared as I pulled my hands away...only to get shot again with another burst of water, this time square in the face.  He actually had the audacity to _giggle_ at me as my mouth hung open in shock, and water rivulets ran down my face and my chest.

 

"I tried to warn you!" he told me with an evil-looking grin.  He held the gun out toward me like one of Charlie's Angels with both hands, his right pointer finger still on the trigger.  "Come any closer, and I'll do it again!"

 

"Wha...?" I could only sputter in disbelief, as I wiped the water off my face and shook my hair; the little bastard had managed to virtually drench me with two, well-placed shots to the head and torso like a police academy veteran.  I wasn't even aware they made squirt guns with a repeating action _.  How quaint_.  "Are you fucking two years old?  You mean to tell me that you robbed a damn bank with a fucking water pistol?!"

 

He furrowed his brow.  "What in the hell are you talking about?  Are you insane?  Who in their right mind would rob a bank with a water pistol?" he asked me.  "It's blue.  Neon blue.  Does this look like a real gun?"

 

"Maybe you had it in your jacket pocket," I offered.  "Or just drew a picture of a gun." 

 

"Ha, ha," he retorted.  "No. 1, I don't HAVE a jacket, you moron. And No. 2, I don't think a picture of a gun would have someone cowering in fear - unless they suffered a paper cut."  He barked out a laugh.  "All this time you thought I was the bank robber?"

 

"Well..."

 

"How did you arrive at that conclusion, Einstein?" 

 

"I read the description of the robber on my cellphone before it went dead.  Blond hair, 5'7"..."

 

"Fuck you, I am NOT!" he replied, insulted.  "I'm 5'8"...and a ½." 

 

"Yeah, yeah...well, it's hard to get a good measurement when you're aiming a gun on someone and then rushing out the door to escape.  They also said he was using some kind of bag that he stuffed the money into...and that the cashier had hidden a red dye pack in the money. And they said he was slender..."

 

"Oh, yeah...that could fit only, what? About a hundred different guys who might be in this building at any given time?" 

 

"Maybe...but I would lay odds only one of them has red dye stains on their fingers!  Explain that, huh?  Boy, you take 'starving artist' to the extreme, don't you?  Although, I must say you have a creative way of padding your income."

 

"I did NOT rob a bank, you dickhead!  Duh...artist...paint...is rationality starting to creep into your brain NOW?"

 

"But your duffel bag...no one has that much stuff in a duffel bag! Not unless it's full of money."

 

He snorted at me.  "That's a laugh!" He opened the duffel bag wider so I could peek inside, noting various art supplies, along with two more bottles of water, and more snacks than a curbside food market would hold.  No wonder it had been bulging.  He finally lowered his 'weapon' and placed it on his lap.  "I'm no more a robber than you're a Boy Scout." 

 

"Well, you're half right.  I was NEVER a Boy Scout. I can see I was mistaken about _you_ , though.  You're not a bank robber; you just rob food.  No one needs that much food!  Do you get stuck in elevators on a frequent basis?  Or does your kind hibernate for the winter?" 

 

"I told you. I have low blood sugar.  And...I was visiting my nephew earlier this morning. His father works at a grocery store, and he's always loading me up with leftover snacks, since he knows I don't make a lot of money as an artist yet.  Last week, it was an entire pallet of Ramen Noodles."

 

"That must have been hard to fit in your duffel bag."  I walked over and sat down beside him, both of our backs against the wall. I shivered slightly as the coolness of the mirrored wall hit my bare skin.  "Well, what about your instrument of wet destruction?  No one carries a water pistol around with them!" 

 

He sighed.  "I just explained the reason!"  He smirked at me before adding, "But since you're obviously older than I am, I'll go easy on you, since you could be in the initial stages of senility, or have a hearing problem." 

 

I huffed in indignation, thinking I would show him just 'old' I was at the first opportunity.  "Fuck you; I heard you just fine," I informed him. "I tend to drown out incessant droning, though.  Ow!" I snapped as he promptly slapped me on my thigh.  "Fucker!" 

 

"So pay attention this time!  I was visiting my nephew this morning, and he's always wanting to play cops and robbers with water pistols.  I put mine in my duffel bag when I got ready to leave, and it just happened to still be full of water."  He eyed me with a grin.  "Until now, anyway."  He lifted it off his knee slightly to examine the water level.  "I think I just shot my last bullet...so to speak." 

 

"I'm devastated," I told him dryly, my eyes leisurely lingering on his slim figure.  His skin practically glowed under the lights of the elevator.  Yeah...this twink was looking better and better by the minute. 

 

His eyes grew wide as they lowered to take in my obvious sign of arousal for him, and I heard his sharp intake of breath.  "We are NOT going to fuck on the floor of this elevator," he sternly told me as he scooted as far away from me as he could - which wasn't far, since he was near the corner of the elevator car as he tried to shrink away from me like a tiger trying to escape his tamer.  But I was definitely planning on taming this particular little tomcat. 

 

My eyes bored into his as I inched closer to his position now in the corner of the car.  I smiled in triumph; I _have you now_.  "Seems you're unarmed now...and cornered," I pointed out as I pressed my body up against his, my own breath catching as my bare torso rubbed against his shirt while our breaths co-mingled. 

 

I had been wanting to taste those lips that were so close to mine now, ever since I had watched them wrap around that damn water bottle as he took a drink, immediately wondering how tightly those lips would fit against mine...and how exquisitely they would surround my cock, wet and hot.  I could almost come right now, merely by the image in my mind at the moment.  His eyes were dark and wide as I stared into them; he gasped as I suddenly reached out and grasped his upper arms to make sure I had his attention before I smashed my lips against his.

 

I could feel him resistant underneath me as I tasted the lingering residue of peanut butter on his lips and deepened the kiss, demanding more as my tongue slid out to swipe across his lower lip in a silent decree that he obey.  I finally felt his body begin to relax underneath mine, and then his lips parted just enough for my tongue to steal inside for a more probing taste as his hands slid around my waist to pull me even closer, our heads instinctively tilting at an angle to make the kiss even more intense.  I almost felt dizzy as we continued to lock lips for what seemed like an interminable amount of time as I used it to my advantage, deciding my companion had way too much clothing on.  I was finally forced to break off our kiss, as my hands reached out to pull at the hem of his shirt and begin pushing it upward with the intent of removing the pesky garment.

 

"What are you doing?" he whispered, his voice hoarse, and his lips puffy and plump from our activity.

 

"What do you _think_ I'm doing?  Surely it hasn't been THAT long since you've been laid." 

 

His breathing was heavy as he struggled to speak.  "I...I told you.  I'm not fucking in this elevator."  I thought he sounded a little less sure of himself this time...but the determination in his deep blue eyes confirmed that he hadn't changed his mind.

 

I groaned in frustration; my cock swelling to an almost unbearable level.  Now that I had the little rascal imprisoned between me and the wall of the elevator, this seemed like the most logical step to take...wasn't it? I wasn't used to being turned down...and I never went down without a fight.  "You sure about that?" I whispered back in a low, smoky voice, my breath tickling his face as I saw him swallow hard.  _So predictable,_ I silently crowed as I moved in closer...only to be taken aback as he firmly pushed against my chest, causing me to topple backward onto my ass. 

 

He smiled devilishly then, apparently enjoying my plight.  "Yeah...I'm sure," he told me, straightening out the hem of his shirt.  The little fucker seemed to be enjoying himself way too much.  I watched him dig into his ever-present duffel bag until he found what he was looking for. "Want a cracker?" he asked innocently, holding it out toward me like I was some damn parrot.

 

Even though I was definitely getting hungry, I wasn't about to let him win.  "No, I don't want some fucking fake cheese cracker!" 

 

He shrugged at me.  "Suit yourself."  My eyes darkened as I watched him suck on the unnaturally-looking orange cracker currently cradled between his lips.  "Mmmm," he moaned, dragging out the sound before he finally bit off part of it. After he had finished the rest of it, he made sure to lick each of his fingers clean before he gifted me with a dazzling smile.  If I wasn't so perturbed at him at the moment - and way too horny - I would have been blinded by that smile.  Right now, I was just plain frustrated - over a lot of things. 

 

"What I want is to get out of this box!" I growled, my mood taking a definite turn for the worse.  I looked around helplessly at our surroundings.  It was your basic - although more upscale - elevator. Four walls, one floor, a panel of myriad buttons in addition to the ones for each floor, and a mirrored ceiling...with a paneled design.  _Hmm..._ "Don't you want to get out of here?" I asked him. 

 

He snorted.  "No. I'd rather stay in here with my dream date."

 

"Well, you're certainly no bed of roses," I retorted.  "You don't smell like one, either, by the way." 

 

His eyes flashed in irritation.  I don't know what it was about this blond, but I was enjoying aggravating him; there was just something that made me keep pushing him - maybe to see how far he would let me go. He waved his hand in front of him in a shooing motion as he said, "Just...just retreat over to your corner, and I'll stay here at mine. Go...amuse yourself. That shouldn't be too hard."  He smirked then as he noticed my impressive woody, making my face unexpectedly redden. "Although...it looks pretty hard to me already." 

 

Rolling my eyes, I peered around our prison, listening to yet another round of "My Heart Will Go On" playing.  I had never realized how often the same songs were repeated on these contraptions before, but then again I normally wasn't on one for hours at a time.  I DID know one thing...If I ever heard that song performed ever again in any format, I would not be responsible for my actions as a result.  As I peered up at the ceiling, a crazy sort of inspiration struck.  "Just how badly do you want to get out of here?"

 

"Are you kidding?  Any opportunity to finally get away from _you_ is a good thing." 

 

"Stand up," I told him unexpectedly, walking over to grab my pants and slide them back on.  I didn't bother to don my socks, merely stuffing them in my pockets as I slid my shoes back on. Leaving my suit and jacket on the floor, I hurriedly slipped into shirt, leaving it open with the sleeves undone.

 

"What are you doing?  I'm staying right here."

 

I huffed in exasperation.  "I can't do this alone! Now do you want to get out of here or not?" 

 

He eyed my suspiciously, but I watched him slowly rise to his feet and walk toward me.  I made sure I was directly underneath the object above me before I motioned to him with a 'come hither' gesture.  "Come on; I won't bite you...at least not yet," I added with a smirk as he shook his head at me. 

 

"Why am I not convinced?" He sighed. "But what the hell?  Just what IS your grandiose plan to get out of here?" 

 

In response, I knelt on my knees before placing my hands flat on the elevator floor, suddenly realizing the position I was in.  "Don't go getting any fucking ideas," I warned him as I heard him chuckle above. 

 

I heard him reply dryly, "I wouldn't think of it." 

 

"Yeah...right.  Won't ever happen," I assured him.  "Now step up onto my back, and see if you can reach that panel up there.  It should just pop open.  And for God's sake, take your shoes off first!"

 

I heard him snort.  "Even if it does open, how do you think that's going to help?  You think I'm going to just shimmy up the fucking cable like Spiderman?" 

 

"Will you just do it?" I asked in barely controlled patience.  "Or are you physically unbalanced in addition to mentally?"

 

"Arrgh!  You are impossible!" 

 

"Do you mind?  This is not a position I'm accustomed to." 

 

He snorted. "I bet."  I watched as he walked over to stand next to me with a saucy grin on his face.  "Although the view is quite nice from up here." 

 

Well, I had to admit that since my head had a good look at HIS head from this perspective, I thought the view wasn't too bad where I was, either.  "Uh...Anytime, uh...just what IS your name?" I inquired. 

 

"What does it matter? As soon as we get out of this contraption, we'll never see each other again."

 

"And here I thought we were starting to bond.  Just humor me." 

 

He peered down at me for a moment before seemingly coming to a decision.  "Justin." 

 

"Justin."  I rolled the name off my tongue, deciding that it fit him...along with some other not-so-polite names.  "Well...Justin...I'm Brian. And I'm fucking tired of being on all fours like some stud about to bang up a bitch in heat, so let's get on with it." 

 

"So poetic; I see why you're such a success in advertising."  He paused as he looked around.  "And just how do you expect me to maintain my balance on top of your back?"

 

I sighed.  "See that wall there?  Duh.  Use it as a brace.  Now get on with it!"  I wasn't sure how long my knees and arms would last; I wasn't getting any younger, and by the time I was finally out of here, I would no doubt feel like I've aged another decade. 

 

I heard him huff in annoyance, before I watched him pull his scuffed-up sneakers off and move to stand next to the wall.  A few moments later, I felt pressure on my back as he put one foot, and then the other, on top of me to stand. 

 

"Shit, how much do you weigh?" 

 

"Will you shut up? I'm trying to concentrate here!"  I felt his feet shift on top of my back before I groaned as I felt him lightly jumping up and down.  "What the hell are you doing?  This is NOT the time for more jumping jacks! Just press on the damn panel!"

 

"I can't reach it!" he informed me.  'The ceiling's too high."  He jumped down off my back as I sighed in relief over having my burden taken away. 

 

"Yeah, or someone's too short," I retorted as I stiffly rose to my feet. I held back my grin as I thought of another - much more promising - option.  "Okay, so we try it another way. I'll hoist you up by your legs, and you see if you can reach it that way." 

 

He stared at me through suspicious eyes for a moment before he finally nodded.  "Okay.  But no funny stuff!"

 

I gave him my best _'who, me?_ ' look as he rolled his eyes.  "Well, don't just stand there; come here.  It works better if I'm going to grab onto you if you're in closer proximity." 

 

I rolled my lips under as he gave me that all-too-familiar, barely contained look of exasperation as he did as I requested, walking closer so we were facing each other.  It was the first time, actually, in all the time we had been in this elevator - being subjected to the same, old, inane Muzak - that we had actually been face-to-face in an upright position, and for some reason it made my heart bounce all over my chest.  I cleared my throat.  "Okay.  Turn around and brace yourself with your hands against the back wall, and I'll raise you up."  I had to restrain myself from snickering as I thought about how 'bank robberish' that first part sounded. 

 

He gazed into my eyes with a bit of what appeared uncertainty until he nodded, doing as I asked.  I bent down to grab his legs around the thighs and slowly lifted him into the air.  I had a perfect view of his ass, making my mouth water and my imagination take bloom - along with my cock.  What was it about this particular twink that made me almost instantly hard, even though I had never set eyes upon him until today?  Well, having a dazzling smile, the bluest eyes I had ever seen, flawless, smooth skin - and the most perfect of asses - certainly didn't hurt. Plus, despite his younger age, something told me this particular spitfire could give as good as he got - in more ways than one. 

 

I finally tore my eyes away from his bubble butt to peer up at him.  "Well?" I asked. 

 

"Give me a minute!" he growled at me.  "And stop ogling my ass!" 

 

I smirked.  "That's a little difficult," I conceded. 

 

"Well, work on it!" he retorted as I smirked.  I waited impatiently as he pushed upward with the palms of his hands, and the fiberglass panel finally gave way.  A rush of cold air immediately assaulted both of us as Justin poked his head up partially above the ceiling to take a look around.  He instantly started coughing.  "Fuck! Let me down! Let me down!" he demanded, his coughing becoming more pronounced. "Shit!  Didn't you hear me?"  He informed me in between coughs, "There's nothing up here but cables, grease, and dust...lots and lots of dust!  Anytime would be good, you asshole!  I HATE dust!"

 

With a sigh of defeat, I waited until he had time to replace the panel before I lowered him to the ground ...slowly. VERY slowly.  Selfish bastard that I am, despite his discomfort, I still wanted to enjoy every second of having him in my arms while I could.  I loosened my grip ever so slightly as his feet came within inches of the floor, before suddenly the elevator car lurched abruptly and unexpectedly began to move.  I heard him grunt as his body slammed into mine, and I barely had time to slide my arms around his body to hold him securely against me as I braced myself against the wall of the car. 

 

The elevator panel crackled to life just as suddenly as it had grown silent before as the same, nonchalant, robotic voice spoke once again like the Wizard of Oz hiding behind his curtain.  "The emergency has been cleared, and the elevator reactivated.  You should arrive at the lobby shortly.  Sorry for any inconvenience.  Have a good afternoon." 

 

I snorted in incredulity.  "Sorry for any inconvenience?  Is he fucking serious?"  I was so busy with my retort, and exalting in the fact that the elevator car was FINALLY moving once more that I temporarily forgot I had Justin still in my grip - until I felt him struggling to disentangle  himself from me.  I felt the loss of holding him profoundly as he pulled away from me to create some personal space, turning back around to peer over at me uncomfortably.  

 

"Well...I guess we can finally get out of here now," he stated, taking a deep breath as he straightened out his tee-shirt.  "So much for needing an escape route.  Five minutes earlier, and they could have prevented a coughing attack."  As if to emphasize his point, he let forth with a robust sneeze.

 

_Yeah...and five minutes earlier, I couldn't have held you in my arms - and imagined what might have been.  What COULD have been.  What could still be?_ I couldn't help wondering as I gazed over at him, the elevator car continuing its descent to the bottom. 

 

I saw him stare at me as he finally asked, "Don't you think you should finish getting dressed?" 

 

I shrugged, but did as he suggested, buttoning my shirt and grabbing my suit jacket from the floor, along with my tie, and picking up my briefcase, which I had long ago dropped onto the floor and neglected.  After all, it was only filled with papers and foam board - nothing like what my companion had brought along with him.  "What about you?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"You wouldn't want to leave your fancy duffel bag here, would you?  You never know when that weapon, and all those peanut butter crackers, will come in handy again someday."  I saw him shudder, no doubt envisioning another unpleasant escapade of being stuck for hours on end with no way out like this one had been today.  Oddly enough, though, despite all the hours of confinement, I realized it hadn't ALL been bad.  Not at all.  To my shock, I also realized something else:  I couldn't let this man just get away and escape, like the robber had done. And to my even _bigger_ surprise, I realized it wasn't just because I wanted to get into his pants - and that amazing ass.  No. There was something different about this one. And I needed to find out just what it was.  So I did something I had never in my entire life done before.  "Uh..."

 

He raised his eyebrows at me as I licked my lips, silently chastising myself for giving away my nervousness.  "I was wondering..." I began tentatively, hoping he would take the hint. But the little bastard wasn't going to make this easy on me, I could tell, as he remained silent while his eyes bored into mine expectantly.  "Since it's been hours since I've eaten, and they have a fair restaurant down in the lobby...would you like to catch something to eat?" 

 

He laughed; a magical laugh, I decided, as I couldn't help smiling. I didn't know whether it was in amusement, relief, or both.  He held out his hands toward me.  "Do you really think I should show up in the restaurant downstairs with red stains on my hands, especially after the bank was robbed?  Besides, remember?  You told me I didn't exactly smell like a daisy before.  And neither do you, by the way."  

 

I grinned over both comments. I had to admit that even though I was assuming they had caught the perpetrator, it might still look a little odd.  And who knew? Maybe they _hadn't_ caught him, but decided he must have gotten away somehow. So perhaps he had a point. And I probably DID smell like a backhoe operator after a ten-hour job digging a trench. That didn't mean I was giving up, though.  "Okay," I conceded with a smile as he nodded.  "Then we'll meet for some dinner.  What time IS it, anyway?" 

 

He glanced down at his watch.  "2:30." 

 

"What the fuck?!  Two-thirty?  No shit?" 

 

He shook his head.  "Two-thirty-one to be exact." 

 

My mouth hung open in shock. I knew it had been a long time, but really?  We had been stuck in here for five hours?  The owner of this building was definitely going to hear from me about THAT.  I harrumphed in disgust.  "Well, someone's going to get their ass put in a sling for that."  I peered over at him and waggled my eyebrows suggestively, getting the reaction I wanted in return:  a distinct blush on his cheeks.  "Speaking of which..."

 

He laughed, his face turning beet red.  "No.  Just...No." 

 

My face fell slightly.  "No...dinner, either?"  I held my breath.

 

He smiled then, making me somewhat hopeful.  "No sling.  But dinner...that may be a possibility."

 

My smile rivaled his then as we finally arrived at the bottom floor, and the doors slid open - freeing us from our confines, but opening us up to more intriguing possibilities.

 

* * *

 

_Present Day - Britin_

I carefully removed my arm from around my son's shoulder and gently lowered his head to the pillow as Gus snored softly.  He never DID seem to make it through the entire story that I had recited to him time and time again, but I knew he would never grow tired of hearing it - and I would never grow tired of the time I spent with him each night he visited me - just he and I at bedtime.  I cherished these times with him.  Just like I cherished my time with someone else. My only regret was that Gus couldn't be here with me all the time, but I knew I had to share him with Mel and Lindsay.  That didn't take the sting away, but it helped knowing that they were taking good care of him, and that I would continue to get regular visits from him as we had all agreed upon.

 

Leaning down to kiss him on the forehead, I reached for his favorite 'security blanket' - his _Curious George_ stuffed monkey - before I slid from the bed and turned the light down to a dimmer setting, just like he preferred.  Taking one last look at Gus to make sure he was comfortable, I slid the blanket up a little closer to his shoulders to make sure he would be warm enough before turning and heading out the door.

 

* * *

 

When I got to the master bedroom I found the door was closed, which normally only meant one thing.  I smiled in anticipation. My boy, if anything, was always efficient and prepared.  I slowly opened the door, finding the room dimly lit with some outrageously romantic, fat pillar candles on the fireplace mantel, on the dresser, and on the nightstand table next to the bed - where Justin was reclining, his ankles crossed and his elbows bracing his body as he smiled sexily at me.  He was wearing the royal blue, silk robe that I had gifted him with for Christmas; a robe that brought out the blue in his eyes and made them sparkle, and was also the beginning of many erotic nights for us as I reveled in removing it from him, taking time to kiss every inch of silky, warm flesh that I discovered underneath.  "I could have sworn I told you to get some sleep, Sunshine," I murmured, my eyes instinctively roaming appreciatively over his smooth legs exposed under the hem of his robe, which barely covered his upper body and ass. 

 

"You know what my favorite sleeping aid is," he softly replied as I grinned. 

 

"And what my favorite aphrodisiac is," I replied huskily as I closed the door behind me, and turned the deadbolt to lock it, knowing if Gus really needed me, he would flick the button on the intercom and call to me; we have found that the best way for him to wake us up, whether it was to get a drink, go to the bathroom, or just seek reassurance during a thunderstorm while still preserving our privacy. For now, however, I knew Gus was asleep, and Justin had the button on mute temporarily. After all, it would be difficult to explain to a young boy about the extremely vocal sounds coming from his Daddy's and Justin's bedroom.

 

I began to shed my clothing as I crept closer to the bed, first yanking my wife beater over my head and then unbuttoning my fly before unzipping my jeans to quickly slide them down my legs; my bare feet made it easy for me to step out of them before I grabbed my briefs and discarded them as well.  By the time I arrived at the side of the bed - my side - I was dressed in all my naked glory.  I shook my head as Justin reached for the sash of his robe.  We had played this feint-and-parry game many times before, and each time we repeated the same action.  He smiled at me slyly as I slid onto the bed to lean over him, stealing a kiss as I began to untie the sash - only to be assaulted suddenly with a stream of water from a pistol that had been hidden underneath Justin's body.  He laughed at me as I flinched, holding my hands up to try and repel the gush of water hitting me in the chest.  It was déjà vu all over again, but this time I wasn't going to take it lying down.  Well...maybe I was, but I was going to change the outcome this time. 

 

"What the fuck, Justin?" I grabbed his wrist, making him shriek as I grappled with him, succeeding in wrestling the offending weapon away from him and throwing it to the ground as I pinned him to the bed with my body; I held his hands above his head as he stared up at me impishly.  "Why, you little...you deserve to be punished for that.  You told me you had gotten rid of that...weapon," I pointed out.  A few months ago, he and Gus had gotten into a rousing round of water pistol dueling in the kitchen, spraying every stainless steel surface with water, and I had promptly declared that there would no longer be any guns of any kind within the Britin premises. I wasn't sure which male was more disappointed by that decree - my son or my lover, but my attempt at changing the subject by offering to take Gus horseback riding - accompanied by his short attention span, typical of a boy his age - had quickly made him forget about it.  I had thought Justin had, too, but obviously I had been wrong. 

 

He blinked as I towered over him and he smiled back at me unconcerned, the droplets from the water pistol running down my hair and tickling his face as I stared down at him sternly as if in disapproval.  Of course, he knew better; I could no more stay mad at him than I could ever stop loving him.   Despite the hours he must have spent on the red eye from Spain - including changing planes along the way - his eyes were sparkling at me, and full of love as I shook my head.  "I'll let you off this time, but only on one promise..." 

 

He gazed into my eyes intently as he whispered, "What?" 

 

"That I get to fuck your brains out every day for the rest of my life.  Oh, and that I get to go to sleep with you every night...and wake up with you every morning."  I leaned down to gently kiss him before pulling back, hearing him groan in disappointment over the loss of such close contact. 

 

I reached down to pull the ends of his robe away from his body, as always my eyes roaming over his skin and marveling at his perfect beauty.  "Do you know what day it is?" I asked him quietly.

 

"The day I get lucky?" 

 

I smirked.  "That's every day," I informed him as he grinned at me.  "No, you fool, it's Valentine's Day."

 

His mouth hung open in obvious shock; had he not realized what day it was?  Or was he stunned that I had remembered? "So?  Since when does Valentine's Day hold any meaning for you?  I thought you told me you didn't like any of these 'hetero, schmetero' holidays as you always put it?  I'm sure this one would be at the top of the list, followed quickly by Christmas."

 

"Hey," I responded, pretending offense.  "Where do you think that came from?"  I pointed out, nodding my head toward his robe. 

 

He snorted.  "You're not fooling me.  You didn't get this robe for ME.  You got it for _you_." 

 

I smiled as he licked his lips sultrily, causing my dick to stir and slowly fill with interest.  "I would say we've both benefited," I remarked as I reached over to slide open the nightstand to retrieve what I had placed there earlier in the day before Justin had returned home.  "Here.  Open this." 

 

His eyes widened in astonishment as he gazed at the object before a smile broke out on his face.  "You bought me chocolates?  Oh, my God, Brian!  Thank you!"  I watched as he pulled the red, lacy bow apart to undo it, leaving it on the mattress as he lifted the top of the heart-shaped lid.  I rolled my lips under as he stared down at his 'chocolates' - several packages of peanut-butter crackers, and one jar of red oil paint nestled in the center. He laughed as he peered up at me.  "How romantic of you," he replied as I lowered myself back onto the bed beside him. 

 

"Read the card," I told him softly, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable - and not just in a physical way.  I watched as he rooted around underneath the peanut butter crackers to locate the simple, small, white card I had placed there earlier.  The words ' _Thief of hearts_ ' were scrawled in my handwriting, along with just the letter "B," but I could see the waterworks already threatening to form as he blinked his eyes and looked over at me. 

 

"You are, you know," I whispered as I reached over to tuck some errant strands of hair behind his right ear.  I wanted so badly to express what was in my heart, but as always I choked on actually verbalizing it. 

 

I saw Justin swallow hard.  "Brian..." he whispered back, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn't believe what I was trying to tell him.  He bit his lower lip for a moment before adding in a hoarse, choked-up voice, "You stole mine, too. And I'm never giving it back." 

 

I smiled as I twisted my body to lay on top of his.  "Neither am I, Sunshine."

 

He flashed me a blinding smile as I draped my body more firmly over his and gave him a toe-curling kiss to seal our 'agreement.'  Before I could progress to more of the main event, however, he gripped my upper arms and pushed me back.  I frowned, not liking the way this seemed to be heading.  _Was he going to force me to say it out loud, after all?_ I wasn't sure if I could do that...yet.  "What?" 

 

"One question."

 

Here it comes, I groaned inwardly, my heart accelerating with anxiety.  "What?" I asked.  "Justin, you know that..."  But the rest of what I was going to say was promptly forgotten as he interrupted me to ask me something much more important.

 

"What happened to all the chocolates?"    

 

 

* * *

 

End Notes:

Hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you for reading.

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3505>


End file.
